


Before and After

by theunnamedconductor (mysteryworthsolving)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Angst galore, Gen, Post-Reichenbach
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-20
Updated: 2013-02-20
Packaged: 2017-11-29 23:29:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 338
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/692771
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mysteryworthsolving/pseuds/theunnamedconductor
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>As far as John Watson was concerned, there were only two designations of time: Before and After. Recounting one and living the other were both equally painful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Before and After

“I don’t drink.”

Lestrade laughed and, without thinking, bellowed, “Since when?” Immediately, his face fell and his ears burned an angry red, both from the drink and embarrassment.

John shook off his apologies indifferently and quickly carried the conversation forward. He didn’t blame Greg. He’d never been opposed to a couple of pints Before.

As far as John Watson was concerned, there were only two designations of time: Before and After. Recounting one and living the other were both equally painful.

Despite his attempts, they couldn’t make a conversation hold after that. Greg politely excused himself (“Divorce papers to fill out, been putting ‘em off for weeks…”). Before he left, he squeezed John’s shoulder awkwardly. John didn’t need to look at his face to know what he’d find.

He stayed at the bar. Droplets of moisture from his glass of ice water slid around his fingertips. He’d surprised himself when he’d turned down his first drink After. The purpose of the trip to the pub was specifically to get pissed. He figured it would help. Heaven knew Harry had trouble remembering her own brother’s name when she’d downed enough spirits.

Yet, when asked what he wanted, he panicked. After stumbling over his words, he finally spit out that he wanted water—yes, just water would be fine. As he sucked on the final bits of ice, he realized with a pang of regret that he probably wouldn’t pick up a drink again—or, at least, not for a very, very long time.

Remembering Before hurt; it hurt so much it was almost too much to bear. But forgetting or muddling any piece of life Before would destroy him.

So John Watson wouldn’t drink. He’d remember. He’d keep his “hard drive” or whatever he’d called it full of as much information of him as possible. Not for the first time, he wished he’d had a fraction of that brilliance so he could do a proper job of it.

At this point, that was as much as he could do.


End file.
